


Lessons in Control

by Elfwreck



Series: Power Play [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-04
Updated: 2005-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwreck/pseuds/Elfwreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape's teaching Harry a new, dangerous game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Control

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at <http://www.livejournal.com/community/snape_potter/348245.html>.

No more Occlumency lessons for Potter. He's too naïve, too trusting… he _wants_ to be read, to be understood. Idiot. Full of adolescent delusions that understanding will bring "respect." We've moved on to other lessons, exercises in challenge and coercion. _And temptation._ Moves and countermoves, feints and parries. If he can't learn to block, he'll have to learn to keep moving. _Going back is against the rules… no retracing one's steps._

Class is almost over. I look around the room… a dozen cauldrons full of green swirling liquid, some with silver tendrils of smoke, some with clouds of it. Potter's is throwing small sparks. Irregular, but not enough to destroy the potion's effectiveness. He reaches for a phial, carefully dips his ladle into his cauldron, pours a measured eight drams into the container. He puts the stopper in. He looks up, catches my gaze, and today's real lesson begins.

He mocks me with his wide, supposedly friendly grin. I scowl back… a comfortable response. I always play that one early. His eyes grow wide and innocent, as if he wants me to believe he's surprised. I almost roll my eyes, but I'm saving that one. I narrow them instead. He sticks out his lower lip, pretending hurt. _It's wet. Glistening._ My own lips stretch into a thin, tight line.

He starts to speak. _Escalating already? So sure of yourself, Mr. Potter._ "Sir..." his voice is shaky. He holds up his potion. "D-does this look okay?" He sounds a bit breathless. I pull my eyes away from his, glance at the green bottle. I speak in a slow, bored voice.

"If you had followed the instructions precisely, Mr. Potter, I'm sure it would be adequate. Of course, to believe that, I would have to ignore several years of history—something I’m told is a particular talent of yours."

The class giggles. _But they're not part of this game._ He glares at me… I don't know what he was hoping for, but that wasn't it. He doesn’t like reminders of his past. I sneer at him. He stomps his foot. Either he's losing control—which I doubt; it's too early—or he's trying to redirect. In either case, my response must be the same; I can't ignore the other students any more than he can ignore his past.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Potter. And _do_ try control your bodily impulses." _He's won this round. Any time he forces a response, he's won._

He turns red, and I wonder if it's deliberate or accidental. _Doesn't matter; either is acceptable._ I raise an eyebrow at him… he sticks out his tongue at me. Ah. Deliberate, then. My indrawn breath is a hiss, mostly at myself for wondering. He moves, as if shocked by the sound, and bumps his cauldron.

Three long steps from the front of the classroom, and I loom over him. _No more long-distance moves._ He flinches, as if he were afraid of me touching him. I chuckle softly at the thought; the rest of the class thinks I'm laughing at his fear. He twists around, leans backwards so he can see my face. I smirk down at him. His moves are limited from here. He steps backwards, tripping on the edge of his robe, falling toward his cauldron. _Tricky, tricky…_

I almost sigh as I catch him, my left arm around his shoulders, bending my right knee so I can reach over to stop the cauldron from tipping. He knows I can't let him tip the cauldron—this potion reacts badly with stone; if it splashes on the floor, this room will be unusable for a week. _Clever boy. Too quick by half. Forcing my hand again._

"Ten more points from Gryffindor for your incredible clumsiness, Potter. Perhaps you need more time scrubbing cauldrons so you'll have less desire to jump into them." The class giggles again. _Ah, the joys of obliviousness._ I refrain from rolling my eyes. I'm still saving that one. Besides, it's not my turn. I wonder how close I can pull him before he moves.

He jumps away from me. I grab his sleeve as he moves past me; sometimes the obvious is effective. He yanks it away from me as he backs up… neither of us has gained anything but a couple of breaths. I step forward. _Two can escalate, Potter; I won't always wait for your move._ He steps back. _How… predictable._ I almost sneer, but I've already done that. Instead, I raise my wand. From the look on his face, he wants to cry "foul"—he doesn't mind the house points (he knows I have resources that he doesn't), but challenging him magically in a setting where he's _not permitted_ to respond in kind bothers him. He's lost for a moment.

Then he grabs the tip of my wand. Every student in the room gasps in shock. _Too bad they're not playing; they really are too predictable._ I'm surprised. I almost yank it back… and then almost smile. Many of the lesser hexes are much more effective with direct contact. I start to say "Imm…" when he decides on his next move. He pulls hard, still holding the tip, and falls down on his back.

Tangle of legs and robes. I speak before he stops moving. "From your actions, I must infer that you are either intoxicated or under the influence of a Foolishness spell. Since no charms have been cast in my classroom today, I can only believe you've been secretly imbibing butterbeers. Fifteen more points from Gryffindor."

I look down at him. _That was a mistake._ He plays Quidditch, I remember… he knows how to fall. And he _never_ moves accidentally.

He's halfway sitting up. Breathing heavy. Eyes dazed. Legs slightly farther apart than they need to be, knees slightly up, twisted slightly to his right side. Right arm back, moving to brace himself; left arm at his side, hand just below the hip, letting my wand fall across his thigh. He's managed to fall with one leg to either side of my feet, and looks up at me like he's forgotten the classroom exists.

And it's my turn. My mind swims with possibilities.

My throat's gone dry. I swallow hard, and wonder if it's deliberate or accidental. His mouth moves; his teeth tug at his lower lip, and he bites like he's trying to remember something. I close my eyes, slowly, but then open them, just as slowly. I can't _not_ watch him. He moves to sit up, and bumps one foot into my ankle. A shiver runs through me. _It doesn't have to be deliberate. It still counts._ I know he sees it.

He's gotten to his knees, and reaches out to me, as if to brace against me as he stands up. I step back… and immediately know my mistake. _No repeats. Damn._ I meet his eyes, and he smiles in triumph.

Next he'll be raising the wand at me… he twitches it, letting me know he's paying attention. I flash through the rest of the loop I've created. He'd raise the wand, ostensibly to "hand it to me;" I'd pull it away from him and step away (neither of us believes I would fall down in class), he'd look at my face and swallow… I won't play out the loop, and we don't have time for a new game. I scowl at him.

Potter finishes standing up. The whole class is watching us. He's facing me with a calm, patient expression. I am enraged by his calm. I can feel my face twisting. "Get out," I hiss at him. I decide that the next round won't be in public. I turn away from him, scowl at the class. "All of you, get out," I snarl at them. They grab their bags quickly, move as quietly as possible to the door. Potter sets my wand on the nearest table as he moves quickly to catch up to them.

I can hear the Granger girl whisper to him as they leave. "Maybe you shouldn't bait him so much." I don't know if she's worried for him, or the house points. These lessons are expensive for Gryffindor.

"I just… can't help it," he whispers back. I almost laugh aloud at the blatant lie. "He upsets me."

I can only hope.


End file.
